Fifty years later — a lesson learned

Published: Friday, August 17, 2012 at 5:04 p.m.

Last Modified: Friday, August 17, 2012 at 5:04 p.m.

I was 8 years old when my daddy loaded us into the old Plymouth station wagon and told us we were going to see a movie.

"This is an important movie," he said: "a movie that will teach you about one of the most important days in history and will help you to understand how thankful we should be for our freedom."

We went to the Bowline Drive-In Theater, and my daddy rolled down the driver's window and affixed the heavy metal speaker so we could all hear. We wanted popcorn and drinks, which he provided, and then told us to be quiet and watch the movie, which we did not. My mother soon released us, and we spent the warm evening playing on the playground in front of the big screen, oblivious to the carnage and destruction depicted above us as John Wayne and Richard Burton starred in "The Longest Day."

We left the movie that night knowing that daddy was not happy with us, for we never realized that the reason we could laugh and play on the playground in front of the big screen was because so many brave men fought and died on the longest day, June 6, 1944.

There were parts of the movie that I remembered. My brother and I used to play soldier when we went to the beach, pretending we were those soldiers in the movie exiting from the landing craft as we stormed the beach and fought through the mighty waves. It was great fun, but I didn't have a clue what it was all about.

I later studied about the Second World War in school, but it was always at the end of the school year and we had to rush through it. In college I studied Western Civilization, but the focus was on the political, socio-economic and philosophical causes and effects of the war. I still had not learned the lesson that daddy tried to teach me a half-century ago.

It is hard to overstate the significance of D-Day. It was not only the turning point of the Second World War, but many historians argue that the Allied victory saved Western Europe not only from Nazi domination but also from eventually being conquered from an equally barbaric Soviet Union. As General Dwight Eisenhower said, "We cannot afford to fail."

A 5,000-vessel armada, the largest the world had ever seen, transported over 160,000 men and 30,000 vehicles across the English Channel. Over 13,000 men parachuted in from over 800 planes. By the end of the longest day, almost 150,000 Allied soldiers were on French soil. It was the beginning of the end for Hitler and the Nazis. But knowing that is not the lesson my daddy wanted me to learn that night at the Bowline Drive-In so many years ago.

Four weeks ago I stood on the top of the Normandy cliffs overlooking Omaha Beach and the English Channel. It was so very quiet and peaceful. I tried to imagine the horror and terror of that day when so many young boys died. Many were just teenagers. They had never been in real combat before that day. Most didn't have a chance. The Nazis gunned them down like sitting ducks at the fair. More American soldiers died on D-Day than in the entire war in Iraq. As war correspondent Ernie Pyle wrote after the battle, "It was a pure miracle that we ever took the beach at all."

The American Cemetery sits high above Omaha Beach, one of the most beautiful cemeteries you will ever see. It is immaculate in its appearance. Its beauty and serenity belies the gruesome carnage that it silently holds. There are 9,387 actual graves and a "Wall of the Missing" containing 1,557 names. These men did not return home. They never had a family. They never had the privilege of enjoying the freedom they died to preserve.

Walking through the cemetery is a powerful, emotional experience. As I stood looking at the graves I suddenly remembered my daddy taking us to that movie back in 1962. He was doing something that none of the men lying in the cemetery were able to do. That was when I finally realized what my daddy was trying to teach me 50 years ago.

The Rev. Dr. Ray Howell III is senior minister at First Baptist Church on West Third Avenue.

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